


Figgin' & Farm Livin' (Is The Life For Me)

by JerseyGirl324



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Cunnilingus, Dildos, Dubious Consent, Episode: s10e11 World Enough and Time, Episode: s10e12 The Doctor Falls, F/M, Figging, Ginger root, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Partial Mind Control, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pre-Episode: s10e12 The Doctor Falls, Rough Oral Sex, Solar Farm, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyGirl324/pseuds/JerseyGirl324
Summary: A sexy interlude at the solar farm, set between "World Enough and Time" and "The Doctor Falls."
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), The Master (Gomez)/The Master (Simm), The Master (Gomez)/The Master (Simm)/Twelfth Doctor, The Master (Gomez)/Twelfth Doctor, The Master (Simm)/Missy, The Master/Missy (Doctor Who), Twelfth Doctor/Missy, Twelfth Doctor/The Master, Twelfth Doctor/The Master (Simm), Twelfth Doctor/The Master (Simm)/Missy, Twelfth Doctor/The Master/Missy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Figgin' & Farm Livin' (Is The Life For Me)

Almost two weeks have passed since their arrival at the solar farm on Floor 507. While the prolonged rusticating is decidedly _not_ Missy's cup of tea, she's still trying to remain on her best behaviour. She’d been making so much progress! But it’s tough to resist temptation when your younger self is a smug, persistent bastard. A bastard who, at present, happens to be on his knees, beneath her skirt, doing the most _unspeakable_ things with his mouth. And, really, how can anyone expect her to say no to that?

She can't see him under the tent of fabric. All she can do is try not to squirm as his tongue glides over the warm flesh of her inner thigh—close, so _close,_ not quite touching her already wet cunt. Younger version wants her to beg—she knows all their tricks only too well—but Missy has no intention of giving in quite that easily.

She struggles not to grind against that smug face when the tip of his tongue dips into the crease where her thigh meets the soft mound between her legs. A sharp breath escapes her throat. Yet just as she braces for the first touch of his mouth on her swollen labia, he stops. Chuckles. Missy can almost see the smirk, the mischievous spark in his eye.

_Bastard!_

"Don't think I didn't hear that," he purrs. "Now hush and let your _Master_ work — so I can satisfy _us_ just the way we like _._ "

Ah, that ego again. Had she really been _him_ once? Her brain is spinning as if trapped in the vortex — an irritating side effect of having two Masters in intimate proximity. _Damn timelines_! Missy hasn't been able to think straight since Junior's been around. And now he's in her head. 

"Get on with it, then," she growls, keeping still in defiance. "This was _your_ bright idea, after all."

"I see we haven't grown more patient in our old age," the Master _tsks_.

Missy sighs irritably. "Well, I can always go find the Doctor, if I actually want to _get off_ some time this century." 

"Oh, really? I bet his oral skills are still so... _vanilla_. For instance, the Doctor wouldn't dare to do _this_ …"

The Master nips her engorged clit, sharp and lightning fast, catching her off guard. Missy bites back a primal groan. It's the tiniest crack in her otherwise stoic composure. And he’s going to assail it until she shatters like a glass figurine.

Oh, this is going to be _fun_!

"Let's see how long it takes to make you scream, sis…" 

His teeth rove over the folds of her cunt, bites coming one after the other, a barrage of searing little pinpricks, until Missy falls into a disorienting trance of agony tinged with arousal. The ancient bed springs creak angrily as she scrambles to brace herself on the narrow mattress. The younger Master is precise, working her over with that single-minded obsessiveness she can still recognize in herself. He won’t stop until he breaks her.

_No._ She won't give him the satisfaction. Not when he's taunting her for his own sport. 

The pain builds to a crescendo before the Master's tongue cuts in like balm, tracing the dozens of crimson teeth marks, soothing their sting, before finding its way back to Missy’s aching clit. He nibbles along the hood, softer this time, then finds the tiny nub beneath and holds it delicately with his teeth. She wriggles at the sensation but refuses to utter a sound.

_I’ll make you obey me, you know._

The Master draws her between his lips, savours the quiet gasp as he hums around the swollen flesh. So the technique must still be a favourite of theirs, even with lady parts instead of a cock. He can’t help but mourn that he won’t be able to remember this when their timeline normalizes.

When Missy finally bucks against him, he plunges into the inviting heat of her body, fucking her hard with his tongue. She's honey sweetness tinged with brine—Time Lord through and through. The Master is intoxicated by the scent of her, the _taste_ of her. He grabs her thighs with enough force to bruise, desperate to devour, yet careful to take his time.

If only he could see her face! He imagines spiraling strands of dark hair coming loose from her messy bun, falling over flushed cheeks, a sheen of sweat on her brow. But she’s still far too quiet. The Master has a naughty urge to make her beg for release, scream _their_ name, when suddenly her body seizes him like a vice, her climax gushing hot over his face. Now isn't _that_ interesting? It seems he still has a lot to learn about this whole woman business. 

Missy relaxes for a moment, then gives herself over to wave after wave of exquisite release. The room is silent except for her muffled breathing, ragged yet gentle, and the rhythmic groaning of the old bed frame. The Master remains motionless, tongue buried deep, blinking back the fresh spurts that blur his vision with each sharp contraction. She’s a woman possessed—one he can’t help but revere in these moments of unbridled pleasure.

Then she collapses onto the mattress like a ragdoll. He spreads her limp thighs even wider and laps up the tiny drops that glisten like pearls on her soft skin. She shudders beneath his touch, patting his head through the fabric of her skirt. The Master soon catches the faintest of sounds drifting through the air—it grows louder as the seconds pass. Missy is laughing. _Naughty girl!_ He emerges into the dusty, splintered sunlight with a determined smirk.

"Did I _say_ you could come, hmmm? Don't think that means I'm done with you…"

He rises to kiss her, rough and insistent. His goatee scrapes against her flushed face like sandpaper. Missy can taste herself on his lips—in more ways than one. And then his tongue pries her mouth open, a spark of renewed arousal shooting straight to her cunt as she swallows another moan. She feels the bulging hardness within the younger Master’s trousers, knows exactly what he’s after. She has no intention of allowing him that much control.

She grabs Junior and pushes him onto his back. It's time to use the home field advantage. She makes quick work of unbuttoning his trousers to free his stiff cock. His hearts beat faster and the first touch of her fingers sucks the air from his lungs. Missy only chuckles, jerking him off roughly as translucent droplets spring up and slide lazily down his shaft.

"I remember _being_ you," she whispers, digging her nails into the underside of his cock. "Every little nuance of this body's responses. And I know you like it rough, dear." 

The younger Master grunts as she gives him a hard squeeze. With just a few more strokes, he spills into her hand like a schoolboy, far too eager to hold out any longer. Missy shoves three sticky fingers into his mouth before he has a chance to protest. 

"Clean my hand off."

Junior complies, suckling her fingers absentmindedly, before his good sense returns and a look of revulsion spreads across his face. He sits bolt upright and spits onto the sheets in disgust.

"You're trying to _degrade_ me now? As if being the older version gives you the right?"

Missy regards him with empathy. “If there’s one thing we’ve learned with age, dearest, it’s that we need to _let go_ sometimes. Trouble is, we never admit that to anyone. So think of this little quirk in our timeline as an opportunity to surrender a bit of control — to yours truly, _yourself_.”

The Master considers for a moment, then shakes his head. “I thought _I_ was mad, sis. But you....”

“Bananas,” Missy concedes with a smile. “But mostly...I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

Her younger self remains silent for a time, then stands up and tucks himself back in. “I need to go…clear my head. To the extent that's possible, anyway.” 

Missy nods. “Just don’t get into any trouble. Or I’ll know.” She taps her forehead with one finger as the younger Master turns and stalks out of the room, door slamming shut behind him.

* * *

Finally alone, Missy manages to get cleaned up. Thankfully, Junior didn’t stain her dress. It's not like she has a decent change of clothes in this godforsaken place. She fixes a cuppa on the fireplace stove and takes up the long, stout piece of wood she's been carving. She tries to lose herself in the project, seeking a respite from her racing thoughts, and lets time slip away like the dwindling rays of artificial sun through the shutters.

Younger version returns some time later and sinks into a nearby chair, staring moodily at the crackling fire. Missy continues her work and waits for him to speak. She's in no mood to indulge his drama.

“I was thinking…” he finally blurts out.

She glares at him. “Yes, I _know_. It was so noisy, too. Took all my mental energy to get a bit of peace.”

“What, do you want to knock me unconscious—again?” The Master sneers. “Listen, I have to know. What you said earlier, what you claim we... _need._ Has _he_ done something to us?”

"No." Missy meets his gaze and holds it with her own. “That bit of wisdom comes from pure introspection.”

"But I still can’t believe you’re being kept by the Doctor. You do remember we once _died_ to avoid being imprisoned with that sanctimonious twat?"

"We're rebuilding our relationship, that’s all," Missy corrects him. "Besides, the Doctor knows his place."

"Oh? Have you already _fucked_ him?"

"His latest regeneration is no longer a blushing bride, if that's what you're asking." 

Missy keeps her cool, a slight smirk playing at her lips as she resumes flicking a small knife along the sides of the stick. Even with a great race like the Time Lords, males can be such animals. She can't tell her younger self too much—the rules of time are the rules they must obey, and she's trying to be a good girl these days. Well, _mostly_.

"I know what you're thinking," she chides. "You're not to touch him unless _I_ say so. We've caused the Doctor quite enough trauma over the centuries as it is."

The Master chuckles. "And do you plan to grant me permission, hmm? Or do I have to beg?” He turns towards her with his best pout. “Pretty _please,_ Master…" 

"Don’t be cute,” Missy interjects. “We’ll have our wee bit of fun with the Doctor soon enough. On _my_ terms. We certainly need some entertainment around here.”

“Oh, but tell me...does he still make that _gorgeous_ little moan when you fuck him? The one where you can’t tell if he’s in pleasure or pain?”

Missy remembers it well. She laughs in spite of herself. “It’s more of a...deep _groan_ these days. You’ll see…”

The Masters are interrupted by a knock at the door. They exchange a glance and swiftly adopt neutral expressions. After a brief delay, the Doctor enters the room, furry brows knit in his usual display of concern. He takes in the spectacle of his - uh, friends - who, in his opinion, can’t help but look guilty whenever they’re near each other.

“Well, isn’t this cozy? I hope I’m not _interrupting_ anything, but would either of you mind being useful once in a while? Or do I have to hold back all these Cybermen by myself?” 

“Of course, my dear!” Missy exclaims cheerfully. The Master merely snickers behind his hand at the Doctor’s indignation. She ignores him. “How may we be of service?”

“We need to finalize the evacuation plan for the humans.” 

“Aye, indeed. Absolutely right.” Missy waves a hand in acknowledgment. Then an idea dawns. She drops her head to conceal a grin. “Actually...I’ve been meaning to tell you, Junior and I found another lift, hidden in one of the barns.”

“Oh?”

“I can show you later, if you want. I just need to, uh, freshen up a bit first.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re on a solar farm. Fighting _Cybermen_. And you want to waste time primping?”

He shakes his head and turns to leave, then notices the stick on Missy’s lap. “And what is _that_?”

“It’s a dildo.” Missy’s tone is matter-of-fact. But her eyes are wicked. “Or, rather, it will be when I’m done carving it.”

The Doctor’s brows shoot up and his mouth drops open. “Well, it’s good to know you’re taking this situation _seriously_. You know where to find me when you’re ready to stop fooling around.” He walks out of the room, still shaking his head.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, the Master explodes with laughter. “A _dildo_?” he snorts. “That’s what you’ve been working on this whole time? The look on his face!”

“As I said, we need some entertainment.” 

“Ah, so what are you going to use it for?” The Master’s brain is already thinking through the delicious possibilities. “And what was that about a lift in the barn? We haven’t found any others….”

The Master's thoughts trail off. A knowing smile blossoms across his stubbled cheeks. 

Missy's expression is a perfect mirror image. “Tonight, my dear,” she declares. “I’ll let you know when I’ve made the final preparations.”

* * *

The artificial sun is burnt orange in its holographic sky when Missy finally leaves the farmhouse. She heads for the fields, where the human colonists grow crops for sustenance. The land is largely deserted at this hour—no one likes to be out after sundown in these parts. But she needs something specific for the evening’s activities. 

Missy catches sight of a lone young man pushing a cart towards one of the barns. She can tell he's nervous at her approach. The humans have never been entirely comfortable with their little group—although they’re more relaxed around the Doctor, who, crankiness notwithstanding, somehow always manages to ingratiate himself with the locals.

“You there!” she calls out. “Hold on a second….”

The man stops, fighting the urge to bolt as she quickly closes the distance between them.

Her attempts at reassurance result in a somewhat sinister grin. "It's alright, human boy. I'm not here to cause you any harm.”

The young man doesn't seem convinced. "Sure, miss," he says, wincing like she’s about to rip out his throat and pin it to her chest. And it’s true, she _is_ feeling a tad bit naughty.

“I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something,” Missy continues cheerfully. "I'm looking for a very specific type of root…"

  
  


* * *

Darkness descends over the solar farm. The humans gather together and shelter inside for the night, but the two Masters have other plans. Missy returns to their shared room to find her younger self bursting with impatience. The fire's dying embers glow faintly in the hearth. She hadn’t meant to be gone for so long.

"Did you get it?"

She nods. "I had a bit of help from one of the humans. They’re actually not so bad once you get past the distinctive...stench.”

The Master rolls his eyes. “Stunted apes, if you ask me.” 

“Well, _someone’s_ cranky!" Missy hands him a burlap sack containing her acquisition. "Why don’t you go on ahead and make sure everything’s ready? I'll fetch the Doctor and join you shortly.”

The Master grins and heads out into the night. Missy makes her way down the narrow hallway of the farmhouse, treading softly so as not to disturb the sleeping humans. The door to the Doctor's room is slightly ajar, enough for her to make out his lone figure slumped in a chair. She quietly pushes it open and takes a tentative step into the room.

"Doctor?" 

He looks up with tired eyes. "Well, it's about time. All on your own, Missy?"

Missy is taken aback by his defeated attitude. There was a time when she would have mocked him for trying to play the hero. But she _has_ changed. Even if she thinks the Doctor is on a fool's errand, she knows he only ever wants to help. 

“I haven’t got a plan,” the Doctor confesses. “I know I can’t keep them all safe. Not forever, anyway. And I can’t let them see how afraid I am.”

Missy’s resolve falters, but she’s determined to press on. Besides, her scheme might end up doing him some good right now. She knows him better than anyone, after all.

“Best not to give up, then,” she remarks, resting a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go for a walk and I’ll show you that lift we found earlier. It might help, eh?”

The Doctor manages a slight smile and rises to his feet. They venture out together, strolling in silence beneath millions of twinkling holographic stars. The cool night air is a respite from the close confines of the farmhouse. Missy leads the way through the deserted fields towards a towering grey barn on the far edge of the farm, near the forest. When they’re close to reaching their destination, it's the Doctor who speaks first. 

“You know, I'm glad it’s just the two of us right now. Because I can see Junior hasn’t changed. I don’t think that particular regeneration ever will.” 

He takes hold of Missy’s hand and brings them both to a halt. The Doctor’s eyes lock onto hers, peering into her very soul. “But I need to believe _you_ have.”

“I’m on _your_ side!” she exclaims plaintively. “But...it’s hard. I’m in two minds at once, and his is on _fire_. It hurts. You have to believe I’m trying!”

Missy turns abruptly and continues towards the barn, tugging the Doctor along with her. She reaches the wooden doors and takes a deep breath. This is it. She faces him again.

“Doctor?”

His eyes brim with worry and compassion as he waits for her to continue. It’s almost enough to make her lose her nerve—again. She takes another steadying breath.

_Damn him._

“I need you to know, whatever happens...I can _handle_ Junior. That old self isn't going to overtake who I am now. Who I've _become_. With your help."

The Doctor studies her with quiet puzzlement. She dares not allow him the chance to respond before swiftly turning away and disappearing into the barn. He follows on her heels. The building is dark, a few overhead bulbs casting shadows across the dusty floor. Bales of hay are stacked high to one side and up in the loft above. He notices a small cot near the far wall, its thin mattress supported by a rusted metal frame. A thick layer of straw has been heaped over the surrounding ground. He’s only just begun to process the situation when another figure materializes from the gloom: the younger Master. The Doctor’s eyes widen in knowing horror at the familiar expression on his face.

" _No_." The plea is a whisper in the lofty structure. He turns to Missy for some explanation, only to find her demeanor has shifted like the wind.

"Let's not pretend you don't need this, my dear. If you cooperate, you might even get to enjoy it, too."

"Missy, _please…_ " The Doctor's hurt is etched on his face. "After all we've done, all you’ve said. Was it nothing but pretty words?"

She regards him impassively. "This isn't meant to hurt you, Doctor. So hush and just listen. Because, as far as you're concerned, you have _two_ Masters to obey tonight."

Without another word, Missy and her younger self converge on the Doctor, each taking hold of an arm. The conspirators march him closer to the bed and position him face-to-face with the younger Master while Missy clutches his waist from behind.

Her breath is warm on the Doctor's neck as she grabs his throat with one hand. He tilts his head back, reacting on instinct, and shudders at the scrape of her nails along the bared skin. Her lips brush his ear, light and fleeting, conveying a whispered command. 

"Kneel."

The Doctor can do nothing but comply. The weight of Missy's betrayal is too much to bear—enough to bring him to his knees all on its own. She takes hold of his lapels and slides his coat off in one fluid motion, folding it neatly over her arm. Then drifts off, settling on a nearby bale of hay. To watch. He can't decide if her retreat is cruelty or kindness.

"Look at me, Doctor." The younger Master finally speaks, cool and deliberate. 

The Doctor swallows hard and turns his gaze upward. The Master meets his eyes with an unsympathetic smirk. His callous fingers run through the Doctor’s unkempt hair and down his cheek, appraising him as if he were livestock at auction, before cupping his chin and tilting it forward. 

"I've aged better than you have, Theta," he taunts, casting a grin in Missy's direction. His thumb traces the thin line of the Doctor’s mouth and he sighs wistfully. "I miss that tousled brown hair, and those pretty pretty lips that were just _made_ for sucking my cock. Still, I suppose this will have to do."

The Master unzips his trousers. He’s been aching for this for such a long time. He casually strokes himself, appreciating the vision of the Doctor on his knees in the straw, waiting to be used. It might not be as delicious as the last body he got to play with, that vain young Doctor who was so expressive, but he’s heard enough from his older self to be optimistic about what’s on offer.

"Let's see if your new regeneration still remembers what I like." The Master grabs the back of the Doctor's head and presses the tip of his cock against his mouth. “Open.”

The Doctor manages a few short breaths before he unwillingly parts his lips. He _does_ remember what this Master likes—far too well. The intervening centuries haven’t dulled his recollection of their difficult past. His thoughts drift back to the Valiant—the imaginative series of humiliations and tortures—some of which he had convinced himself were deserved. He’d forgiven the Master for it all, of course, as he always does. But the Doctor would’ve been content never to have lain eyes on this regeneration ever again.

He’s abruptly returned to the present when the Master slams into him, scraping the back of his throat. His first instinct is to pull back. But the Master holds him still, refusing escape as his muscles spasm. He studies the Doctor closely, learning his new body’s responses, then withdraws just enough for him to choke down the rising tide of bile. Then he yanks a fistful of his old friend’s hair and laughs.

“A bit out of practice, are we? We haven’t even begun yet. Do you need me to go _easier_ on you?”

_Please. It’s too much…._

The Doctor is unable to communicate aloud, so he reaches out with his mind. He hopes Missy will hear it too. Surely she can’t just sit back and do nothing?

The younger Master scoffs. “You used to hold out until your eyes watered, until your respiratory bypass was shutting down, before you would have even _dared_ to beg me for mercy.”

He glances at the Doctor with lust and contempt, then begins to fuck his throat in a steady rhythm, granting some leeway to breathe. The Master doesn’t want to spoil the fun by suffocating the Doctor—or making lady version angry—but his hand is rough and relentless as it guides the other Time Lord’s head up and down the length of his shaft.

The Doctor’s eyes are screwed shut all the while. So different from his prior regeneration, who would gaze imploringly up at his Master through long, damp lashes. This expression won’t do at all. He pulls the Doctor’s head back and stills his hips.

“ _Look_ at me, Doctor.”

The Doctor reluctantly obeys. Bits of straw poke through his trousers, pricking his knees, his scalp burning as the Master’s fingers tug at his hair. He struggles to remain upright when the other Time Lord’s cock once again slams down his windpipe. The Master keeps him impaled for what seems like an eternity, relishing the fear and shame in his moistening eyes. Then he resumes with even greater vigour, gagging the Doctor on every rapid thrust.

He’s choked without respite, hands grasping weakly at the Master’s legs while his oxygen runs out. Then he feels another familiar hand comb through his hair. He looks up to find the two Masters kissing deeply, their free arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. For a time they move as if lost in their own private world. But still the younger Master doesn’t let up on brutalizing his throat.

“Pace yourself, my dear,” Missy admonishes her counterpart. “Like I told you before, you always go too fast.”

“You’re right, sis. Besides, he’s useless at this anyway…”

The Doctor sputters as Junior abruptly withdraws from his mouth. Before he can regain his balance, or wipe the trailing spit off his chin, they haul him up and onto the bare mattress. Missy undoes his belt, and together, they quickly divest the Doctor of his shirt, trousers and pants.

Missy climbs on the bed and settles between the Doctor’s legs. She caresses his cheek while Junior stands quietly to one side. He can’t look at her, at either of them, and turns his face away in mortification. Missy retrieves a pillow from the floor and slides it under his head. 

“Be a good boy for me, Theta,” she murmurs. “It’s _my_ turn to play now.”

She presses two fingers against the Doctor’s lips. “Suck.” 

The Doctor offers no resistance as she pushes inside, careful not to hit his bruised throat.

“That’s right, get these nice and wet for me…”

Missy grasps the Doctor’s cock with her free hand and strokes it, running her thumb over the head. He deserves a bit of kindness—and besides, she’ll be needing him.

When her fingers are slick with the Doctor's spit, Missy pulls them from his mouth and shoves both into his arse. He yelps in shock and tries to squirm away, but Junior pins his legs down onto the mattress. 

“ _Shhh_. Relax…” 

Missy massages the Doctor's cock with a firm hand while angling her fingers to hit his prostate, teasing the sweet spot until he looks towards her and begins to moan.

“Missy....” 

“No, dear.” Missy smiles down at him with a devilish twinkle in her eye. “Use my _name_.”

The Doctor’s pupils widen in fear. And perhaps just the faintest glimmer of arousal. Or maybe that's just her own wishful thinking. Either way, he takes a few shaky breaths before addressing her properly.

“Master.” 

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Master, please. You don’t have to do this. It’s not too late to stop. _Please_ …”

Missy chuckles. “Why would I _stop_? When we’re finally getting this wee dangly of yours to come out and play!”

The younger Master joins in her laughter. The Doctor flushes crimson as Missy scissors her fingers, stretching his arse wide open. A third slides in far too easily and his cock rises with each stroke of her hand, every deliberate brush against his prostate.

Once the Doctor is fully hard, Missy reaches inside her dress to retrieve her new creation. The carved dildo is a thing of beauty: dark, smooth wood with a delicately curved shaft. It's longer than her usual cock but lacking somewhat in overall girth. The Doctor should be able to take it with minimal preparation. 

She turns to the younger Master with a smirk. "I think he's ready. How about you?"

"Oh, _definitely_..."

The Master stokes himself in anticipation, spellbound at the sight. Missy spits into her palm and slicks up the wooden cock with a thin layer of saliva. She smiles apologetically at the Doctor.

"Do excuse me, Theta. I'm afraid this isn't very _ladylike_ , but we weren't able to find any proper lube."

"Master, please _no…_ "

Missy _tsks._ "You're only making things harder on yourself by being stubborn."

She massages the Doctor's tight hole with the head of the dildo and waits for him to relax. A few swift pumps of her hand provide just enough incentive. He bites back a groan as the cock breaches him, sliding down to the hilt despite his body's resistance. Missy knows it hurts, but not unbearably. There’s no need to be cruel with poor Theta. The younger Master rejoins them on the bed, straddling the Doctor's head between his thighs.

"I'm not as nice as lady version here," he snarls. "And I'm hardly finished with you, Doctor…"

Missy watches her younger self pound once more into the Doctor's throat. She hears him gag before his air is cut off. Then his entire body seizes up as both cocks impale him at once, sending powerful tremors through the dildo's wooden shaft, up her arm, straight to her very core.

_I know you feel that, sis._

The Master's voice booms in their shared consciousness. Missy discovers too late that she can’t block him now—the link is too strong, an open floodgate. She's afraid of losing control. But Junior doesn't relent.

_Remember being me? This body? I bet you feel our cock down his throat, right now, taking what we want. Poor Doctor. Forever meant to be our little plaything…_

Suddenly, Missy herself hovers above the Doctor’s face while his windpipe constricts around her throbbing erection. The younger Master's insatiable lust rages inside her head. 

_Fuck him harder!_

Hips lurch forward, and she moves within two bodies at once, sharing physical sensation as well as thought. Their conjoined psyche soon makes it impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.

But there's a third mind involved. The Doctor’s been blocking any telepathic link with the two Masters. He won’t allow them to violate his mind along with his body. And Missy is no longer able to deny she's breached his trust. It's her responsibility to know his limits, after all. She needs to make sure he really can handle this.

_Doctor?_

She gently probes the edge of his psyche, requesting connection. _If_ the Doctor lets her in, she knows Junior comes along with her. Missy summons her willpower to bring some quiet to the chaos. She regains awareness of her individual body to find her hand moving too fast, fucking the Doctor in sync with the younger Master's punishing thrusts. Missy stills her cock inside him and waits, until the Doctor hesitantly lowers his mental barriers, granting her access.

Slipping into his mind is like being submerged in a cold bath. The Doctor has retreated deep within himself, despondent at her betrayal. Missy transmits reassurance into the farthest corners of his consciousness. She'll only be able to hold Junior at bay for a short time, and seizes the opportunity to assist the Doctor while she can. 

_I'm here with you, dear. I'll always be with you._

She takes hold of the Doctor's neglected cock to help soothe the pain. His body reacts with the faintest stirrings of pleasure, making him all the more receptive to her psychic ministrations. Not even the younger Master is immune to the calm his older self radiates into their shared neural pathways. He promptly eases his own pace, giving the Doctor a renewed opportunity to breathe.

Missy's cunt throbs with arousal. She continues fucking the Doctor with her cock, smooth and slow, angling it to hit just the right spot. It's not long before his mind emerges from behind its invisible walls, reaching out through the link.

_I thought I could trust you, Missy._

Missy allows the name infraction to pass. She responds instead by channeling her own desire directly into the Doctor's head, so he can _feel_ how she aches for him—how he'll always belong to her, no matter their regenerations.

_You've always taken on far too much, my Theta. Even when we were children. Surrender to me. Give up control to your Master._

She massages the Doctor's mind while his two Masters take him as one, sliding in and out of his pliant body in matching rhythm. But the tempest soon threatens: Junior can sense the Doctor's mental vulnerability. Missy's efforts to rein him in will only quell it for so long. 

_Nice of you to finally join us, Doctor._

The Master shatters the fragile vestiges of calm his older self imprinted on their shared mind. Lady version can be so soft—where's the rage, the fire, the insatiable hunger for control? Yet she is his future.

_Sis is right, you know. Now let's see if we can't make you surrender…_

He sneers down at the Doctor while his pulsing cock moves between tired lips. He's been far too kind under Missy's transitory spell. The Master grabs the other Time Lord's head and plunges in deep; the Doctor thrashes beneath his weight, entire body fighting the renewed assault.

There's nothing Missy can do. Not now. But she need only wait. Her younger self is burning hot and fast, driven by a scorching need for dominance. She _feels_ it — the frenetic energy coursing through every fibre of her being like wildfire. He's close to climax. Oh, she _remembers_ being him. She grins to herself. He never could stop and savour the moment.

_Hold on, Doctor._

The Doctor can no longer breathe. Missy's words drift faintly into his consciousness. She seems a million miles away now. There's a resurgence of terror as he contemplates whether he might die like this—if that’s his Master’s intention. Then coherent thought shuts down and he goes on autopilot, respiratory bypass taking over to stave off asphyxiation. 

The younger Master pushes roughly into his mind, only to find him numb, beyond fear, functioning at the most primal level. He pulls back his hips just enough to tease, to allow a fleeting breath, but the Doctor is too far gone to notice the opportunity. And while he misses the trepidation, the delightful twinges of pain, this... _nothingness_...is deeply satisfying all on its own.

_Surrender to me, Theta. Let me be Master of the air in your lungs, the beating of your hearts, your very life itself…_

He shoves forward again and buries himself deep in the Doctor's throat. The base of his cock seizes up with the powerful stirrings of impending orgasm. The Master realizes he won’t be able to hold off any longer. He closes his eyes, fisting the other Time Lord’s hair with both hands, then shoots straight to the pit of his stomach with an animalistic growl.

Stars explode behind his eyelids. He leans forward and grabs the bars of the cot, cock pulsing continuously as it empties itself of every last drop. The Doctor is unresponsive throughout, a mere receptacle, with no choice but to accept whatever he's given. The Master drinks in the sight of his oldest friend: barely conscious, his eyes closed, still unable to breathe around the softening cock lodged in his windpipe.

_Look at me, Doctor._

Somehow, the Doctor has just enough mindpower left to register the command. His eyes flutter open, dazed and bloodshot, faint remnants of consciousness still clinging to life behind the dilated pupils. He remains motionless— _calm_. The Master is struck by the openness of his expression. The two Time Lords hold each other’s gaze as if bound by a spell neither dares to break.

Missy can feel everything. She can’t help but appreciate the raw beauty of the Doctor’s unconditional submission. But he's slipping away—water through her fingers. Her prior regeneration never did know when to stop. And the Doctor is too far gone to look out for himself.

_Careful, dearest. I never said you could kill him. Besides, do you really want to deal with the mess of him regenerating around your cock?_

The Master starts at the sudden rumble of lady version's voice in his head. He slips out of the Doctor's mouth, relishing the faint sigh of his airway as it reopens, then turns to her with a bemused smirk.

_That might be fun, but I certainly don't want to miss the show you've got planned, sis._

He climbs off the bed, tucking himself back into rumpled trousers with a soft chuckle. A bale of hay positioned a few feet away provides a prime viewing spot for what's to come. He plops down and waits for things to _really_ get interesting.

* * *

Missy gingerly withdraws from the Doctor's body. He's still hard, in spite of everything. She loosens a white linen handkerchief from around her neck and dabs his face, wiping away sweat, dried tears, lingering drops of the Master's come. The Doctor blinks up at her—his psyche is reawakening, returning to full awareness.

He takes a few hoarse, ragged breaths. Missy leans over to retrieve a water bottle stashed on the floor. She cradles the Doctor's head and encourages him to drink. He coughs as the cool liquid runs over his parched lips and down his throat. Missy wets her handkerchief and mops his brow, murmuring _sssshh_ , aloud and in his mind.

"Missy…" 

The Doctor coughs again, unable to continue. Missy gently rubs his shoulders and puts on a reassuring smile.

"There's no rush to talk, Theta. But when you _are_ able to speak, you best remember to address me properly."

She peers into the Doctor's eyes, sees he understands. She tips the bottle to allow him another drink. He manages several sips before sputtering weakly onto his chest. It takes a few moments before he’s finally able to get the words out.

"Master...wh-what are you going to do to me?"

Missy trails a finger down his cheek. "I've got something for you, Doctor," she murmurs, leaning in until her lips brush his ear. "Something I've been saving only for you. For when I felt you'd _earned_ it."

"I don't understand…." 

"You will, my dear," she interjects. "All in good time. But first…"

Missy sits up and nods to Junior. "Dearest, if you would?"

The younger Master grins knowingly back at her. He picks up the burlap sack and pulls out a bulbous yellow root, peeled and tapered to a slight point on one end with a wider base at the other.

"This is ginger, Doctor. Lady version's idea. The natural oils should provide enough lubrication to get it up your arse." He laughs at the thought of it. "Once inserted, the oils will gradually absorb. You'll find the sensation rather... _intense_ , I imagine."

He passes the carved root to Missy, who accepts it with a grin of approval. The Doctor's eyes widen but he doesn't utter a sound—his pleas would only fall on deaf ears.

"I'm going to push this in nice and _slow_ ," she purrs. "I'd advise you to relax—ginger only hurts more if you clench."

The Doctor breathes deeply as the plug enters him, anchoring within his body. It generates an immediate warmth but no pain. He sighs in relief as Missy begins to stroke him. Then, without warning, she smacks the underside of his cock with an open palm. He gasps in surprise. She pauses, then smacks him again—not hard enough to really hurt, but more than sufficient for his muscles to tighten against the impact.

Missy grins coyly. "Sorry, Theta. I couldn't resist."

The Doctor understands soon enough. The tingling warmth swiftly flares to an intense burning, too much to handle for long. Missy's hand helps ease the pain. She enjoys watching him squirm with that alluring blend of discomfort and arousal. But her cunt aches from neglect—it's time to pursue her own satisfaction. She's been waiting so very long for it.

"It's time for your reward, my dear. What I've kept just for you..."

Missy climbs atop the Doctor, poised and purposeful, the wool of her skirt tickling his stomach as it engulfs him in a sea of deep purple. Their eyes lock and her hand grasps his, guiding him, until it, too, is swallowed up beneath the bulk of her dress. She slips into his mind and completes a circuit that sends tingling current running through them both.

_Feel how much I want you, Theta._

The Doctor lets out a low moan when she presses his hand to the slick folds of her cunt. Missy has always taken great pride in teaching him exactly what her new body likes. Their connected minds crackle with arousal—and, for the Doctor, the smoldering tinge of fear at his own helplessness. Before he can grasp what’s happening, she takes hold of his cock and slips it inside her, eliciting a gasp from them both. 

_Keep still._

Her voice is a silken thread weaving through his mind—steadying him, _commanding_ him. The ginger tethers the Doctor to his physical self; he can't even twitch without reigniting the fire in his arse. His Master does have quite an _imaginative_ arsenal of restraints. Missy starts to move — _so_ slow—rocking into him, the full length of his cock nestled within her pulsing body. 

_Keep still, Theta._

The Doctor is in awe. She’s velvet around him, an exquisite sheath of heat and energy. He wants to thrust into her, _move_ with her. For now, he has no choice but to lie back and let her take him, carry him along on her teasing rhythm. His fear melts away as their linked consciousness blazes like the dual suns of home. 

And it’s everything Missy imagined it would be. Oh, she wants to ride him, order him to fuck her with unbridled abandon. She draws upon her deepest reserves of patience to hold the impulse at bay. _Pace yourself. Keep it together._ This is an experience meant to be savoured for as long as possible.

The Doctor is bombarded by too many competing sensations. Missy squeezes around him, keeping him hard as a rock, while the ginger burns deep within. He struggles to stay relaxed—a constant challenge when she makes him feel _so damn good_. So he simply lays still, as instructed, and watches her every move with the keenest interest.

Time slips by and they lose track of the outside world, caught up in the absolute coalescence of their bodies and minds. Suddenly, Missy freezes. The Doctor gazes at her in bewilderment—there’s a look in her eye he doesn't recognize. She leans forward to brush her lips against his, then breathes an order which sends tremors into every corner of his body and soul.

“ _Fuck_ me, Doctor.”

“M-Master?” He’s not sure he understands. And they’ll be hell to pay if he’s wrong about this. 

“You heard me, Doctor. I want to _feel_ how much you want me…”

Missy doesn’t move an inch. She looks into the Doctor’s eyes, their lips almost touching, and waits. His brain struggles to reconnect with his body, to send the signal for his hips to start working. She hovers above him like a statue: unbending, in total control. The Doctor takes a breath and thrusts into her expectant cunt, triggering a fresh eruption of heat inside him. But working through the pain soon proves much easier than he expected.

_Harder, Doctor!_

She’s in every corner of his mind, urging him on with her fire and passion. The Master has always liked it rough. And she’s now discovered being fucked in a female body is nothing short of divine. The Doctor becomes her beast of burden, ignoring the insidious ginger as he pushes into her over and over, until they’re both panting like animals. The Master rarely grants the Doctor this particular privilege—and it’s never been quite like _this_ before.

_K-Koschei...Master…_

_Yes, Theta?_

The Doctor’s nervous. Missy can sense how close he is to the edge, his cock thrusting deep while she pushes back against him. He’s fretting over how long he can hold back: there’s no escape route, and he’s not allowed to come without permission. She pretends not to notice his plight, raising walls within her mind to prevent him guessing what her pleasure will be. Missy _does_ love the Doctor’s fear, even after all these centuries, all the assorted regenerations. 

She rocks into his thrusts, desperate for more depth, more connection. The fullness of his cock thrums inside her. Their minds are carried off together on waves of pleasure, physical and psychic. Missy reaches down to rub her clit with two fingers, positioning them around the Doctor's shaft, gasping aloud as she edges herself just to the tipping point. She locks eyes with the Doctor and bends forward, breath caressing his flushed face.

_Master, I think I’m going to….need to..._

_Yes, Doctor?_

Missy gives nothing away. _Oh, this is going to be spectacular!_ The Doctor is slowing down, battling the need to keep pace with the need for release, terrified of showing any disobedience. 

_Master, I...I can’t hold on anymore..._

_Then beg, my dear._

_Please...please...._

Missy laughs inside his head. His thoughts are barely coherent, a string of rambling pleas. The Doctor is sorely mistaken if he thinks he’s going to get off that easily. She’s trained him better than that.

_You’ll have to ask me properly, Theta._

_Please, Master. Please may I come…?_

She pretends to consider for a moment. Then opens herself to him entirely, lowering the mental barriers meant to keep him off balance. She may as well grant permission— neither of them are going to hold out for much longer, anyway.

_Go ahead, my dear._

The Doctor expects her to pull away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she rocks her hips faster — _never enough, never enough_ —building to a crescendo before a wave of mutual pleasure crashes over them like a tsunami. Their bodies and minds alight with an explosion of ecstasy that, for Time Lords, can only arise from the deepest and most sincere connection. 

Missy falls upon the Doctor and kisses him hard, enjoying the pulse of his cock as it softens within her. She runs her tongue over his teeth, one hand tousling his damp hair, until he opens his mouth to invite her in. She wants the Doctor's body and soul laid bare before his Master. 

_Koschei...I thought I’d lost you so long ago…_

_I’m still here, Theta. I always have been. And I’ve wanted nothing more than for us to be friends again._

Missy breaks the kiss and peers into the Doctor’s eyes, loses herself in their depths. He’s unafraid now.

She deftly removes the ginger, tossing it into the straw without a second thought. It leaves a pleasant tingling in its wake, warms him along with the subtle twinges of her cunt. The Doctor's body is bereft when she reluctantly climbs off him—but the telepathic connection endures as they keep their minds open to one another.

“ _Brava_ , sis…” 

The Master whistles softly from his nearby perch on the hay. Missy turns to her younger self as if she's only just remembered he’s been there the whole time. She takes a moment to steel herself before the disorientation of their out-of-sync timeline once again seizes her mind. Then swings her legs over the side of the bed, smoothes her skirt, and musters a smile.

“Did you feel any of that, dearest?” 

“Oh, yes,” he breathes. “It was amazing shagging—without the physical component for me, of course. In fact, I’ve never been quite so _excited_ at the prospect of becoming you…”

The Doctor regards him warily. Will his renewed faith in Missy prove misplaced? She’s _trying,_ she said. Insisted she was on his side. Just before she delivered him up to her younger self’s brutality. How can he trust her so long as the two Masters exist in the same time and place? 

Missy picks up the water bottle and hands it to the Doctor. He takes a few grateful sips, still fighting to suppress a cough, then leans in close to whisper in her ear. 

“ _Please_ , Missy. You’re better now—I know you are. Don’t let him ruin everything we've worked so hard for.”

“I _told_ you, Doctor." Her voice is so muted he can barely make out the words. “Whatever happens, I can handle him. And I will.” 

She takes a thoughtful swig of water before standing up and taking a long look around the barn. “It’s late. What should we do now?

The Master scoffs. “If we go sauntering back in the dark of night, those apes will shoot us dead before they realize we're not Cybermen. And _I_ , for one, am not looking to regenerate while stranded in this mess.” He grins at Missy. “No offense, lady version.”

Missy gives him a casual wave of her hand. “We can all squeeze into the bed here. It’ll be tight, but it’s really no more— _primitive_ —than our accommodations at the house.”

The Doctor is glaring daggers at her younger self, who, for his part, seems nothing short of amused at the ill-concealed ire.

Missy sighs testily. “Enough!” She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and gives it a firm pat. “Junior, you’ll be on this side.”

The Master rolls his eyes but climbs in without complaint. He teasingly drapes an arm over the Doctor's waist. His old friend flinches at the touch. Missy removes a blanket from under the bed and throws it over the two men, then nestles beside the Doctor on his opposite side. He ignores Junior and turns to her with a look of chagrin. She can’t help but laugh as she, too, wraps an arm around him, joining hands with the younger Master under the covers.

She imagines what it would feel like to have Junior and the Doctor take her together. Wouldn’t that be _exquisite_! But such an adventure will have to wait. The Doctor needs time to recover, to trust her again. Missy decides being stranded here for a bit longer might not be as bad as she once thought. She gives the younger Master’s fingers a conspiratorial squeeze. His spark of approval flashes through their shared mind. He tightens his grip on her hand and they both inch a tad closer to the unsuspecting Doctor.

Perhaps there’s something to be said for farm living after all...


End file.
